


First Things First Imma Say All The Words Inside My Head

by hummingrightalong



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Love, Budding Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutilation, Violence, mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-04-19 23:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14247954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummingrightalong/pseuds/hummingrightalong
Summary: Troy, Nick, Alicia, Jake, and a few other surprise survivors head out to an Otto family property up north.One shots from the POVs of FTWD characters. Troy/Nick & Jake/Alicia centric. Life after the end of the world.





	1. See Your True Colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake is feeling useless after surviving the bite but losing an arm. Troy is frustrated. He saved his life and he doesn't want him to give up. So many people could have been saved the same way and in his eyes Jake is giving up.  
> It's only slightly mentioned, but FTWD always ends with Troy/Nick

Inappropriate laugh time. The last sensation I remember before the amputation was a kind of tickle where the walker bit down on my funny bone...ok, the last sensation I remember was my brother cauterizing the wound with a red hot machete he'd sterilized with rubbing alcohol. But seriously. The bite part. It did *kinda* tickle.  
What didn't tickle was the fact that I can still hear myself saying to my baby brother 'this is a trip you'll have to take on your own'...somethin' stupid like that. I mean, what the fuck? We're family. Please tell me it was temporary insanity. That's what I keep telling myself. Sure, Troy ain't perfect...hell, he ain't right in the head...but blood is thicker than water. He's my baby brother. 

It was one thing throwing him outta his home. Sending him to the desert to die another. Then, against all odds he makes it back and I still try to kill... yep, I was crazy.

Please. Tell me I was crazy.

Because when I sent him away I was relieved to see him go.

 

***

"Cut it off!"  
I had no hesitation at the time.  
Suddenly my mind had been clear. After the madness I'd come up with, the mind-fucking from Madison that had allowed to help me allow the ranch to vote against my brother.  
Now, the biting and spread of the infection had produced an idea.  
A theory my brother and I had come up with when the sickness first broke out amongst our people at the ranch. When we quarantined them. 

When I came home to find Troy 'giving mercy' to people we'd known ten, fifteen, twenty years. A lifetime gone in the blink of an eye. And ultimately, though it would not have looked nice to say it aloud at one of the community meetings father was grooming me to hold, I finally agreed with my brother. Raged inside, at Troy, but really because of the unfairness of it all. But, eventually, my father had pulled me aside and confronted me with the truth I'd know all along "Jake, we have to trust him." He was right and I agreed.  
There's something not everyone knows about the Otto brothers. The tempers. Where his is hot and quick and loud, mine slowly boils underneath and eventually it explodes in a more self-destructive way usually.

Currently Alicia is doing her very best to gently help me adjust to my new disability. Truthfully, I'm not taking it well.  
In all reality, I'm doing alright with the little things. Working on the family farm just like everyone else; relearning to write and type with my left hand. Day to day activities are actually not that much different with one working arm if you're slightly clever and consentrate. Not to mention the great support.

The thing is; instead of that slow ebbing Otto anger, I feel very little at all. On hunts especially, it's like autopilot. Except, unlike my brother, I'm starting to dangerously suck at it.

It's bad enough feeling useless sometimes, or less than a man. That's...well, that's likely. Any psych 101 class will tell you that. 

Honestly it's more the guilt of how I got here that's getting me to this emotional point. That, and my little brother obviously sees it. Sees that I'm useless now. Sees that I can't hack it. He's angry and he's showing it. Audibly.

His usual artful way of disposing of the dead has become literal chaos today. He hacks aways at them randomly- still disposing of them quickly but it's messier and takes twice as long. When he turns back at me I can see red tired eyes and disappointment; when Troy looks at me he sees the useless man that could've wiped out that entire pack of a dozen walkers with a semi-auto in close quarters- acurate and with no danger to anyone else. 

My handgun has barely made a headshot today and it doesn't get past me that he's cleaning up my mistakes. I'm just not in it. I'm dangerous to these people. I should just walk away from our new homestead like in our dreams and finish what I started out in that desert. Forget what I said to Troy. I knew we were both not getting out of there.

"Look at you! Useless!" He screams, hacking away at one wearing a sweatshirt emblazoned with the same university letters that I have somewhere; the place I got my law degree. Wow. What a distance it's traveled. And for what?

He keeps screaming these things, eyes redder, movements wild but effective. Always effective, even when he's raging inside and on the verge of fucking tears...and I kinda hate him for it. I hate that I hate him but I do.

Finally, covered in blood and brains and viscera, his mouth full of something sickly black that he spits out, he starts grabbing them and pulling them close.

"An arm!" Whack!

"Ankle!" He cuts that off, the place where the first bite is clearly visible and more rotten than the rest of it.

"Shoulder!" 

He holds out a hand to push against the chest of one of the last ones. He grabs it's wrist. It's a child. Maybe no more than 10 years old. "If only someone had known! What a life you could have lived! Who would you be? You're NOTHING now. NOTHING!....and I...I coulda helped you..."

"Hey! Troy! They're getting close! Cut it out and pay attention!"

"Shut up Jake!" Whack! He cuts the little walker's hand off at the wrist. "If only someone had known, huh kid? If only...you might've appreciated it more than HE does, WOULDN'T YOU?" Smash! Troy take a swing and the little guy's rotten head goes flying. I think I see tears in his eyes as he shoulders past me. He makes sure to put me off balance by bumping into my right side; what's left of my arm, what's made me feel so useless and is a constant reminder of how I failed him.

***

Alicia had been watching in the truck. It'd been any old supply run- turned into another explosive Troy vs Jake moment. As usual. As if things could change. Little did I know, they had. I just had to catch up and accept.

At least that's that's what my girlfriend(?) starts to tell me while I pout in my room over my old (successful) case papers.

"That was awkward."

"I don't wanna talk about it. I think we all know what happened out there. How being USELESS here in our new world Troy is always talking about is a culmination of my failures more than him..." Alicia crosses her arms, big eyes giving me that 'you've almost got it' look I've become familiar with.

"Out there. His hardness. It's because I left him alone with dad for so long. I lost my baby brother."

"I think it's the other way around. Think about it. You both made mistakes. Yes. But out there in the desert you were gonna kill him. He would've LET you, because he's always thought you were better than him. He's never wanted to disappoint you. He showed that, whoever taught him to keep just a shred of that, he has that softness and compassion and love and...before my brother came along, he reserved most of it FOR YOU. Now go apologise. And ask for his help. Because I can only get you so far. I can be patient and study anatomically what to do for someone in your case but that's not what you need is it?"

***

It's hard. And it's awkward, like I knew it would be. But all I had to do was ask. To admit that I needed him and that I did, and I really meant it when I said it aloud to him because I owe him that at least

"I want to live. Not, I want to live like THIS," I add, tilting my head to look at what's left of my arm. "I want to live because I believe in what you're doing and I believe in you so if you think I can be part of this world that you want to create I WANT to be a part of it."

Troy rolls his eyes, shrugs it off.

"Well, come on then. You've got a lot of catching up to do." Then he hugs me and I swear my sleeve is wet when he walks away but neither of us will say it. I wipe my eyes and follow along.


	2. But I Waste More Time Than Anyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake and Troy work around his disability while Jake recalls their worst moment in the desert

My first swing misses, of course. Troy growls. He's not frustrated, he's just trying to egg me on. I know it. He's trying to bring out that bit of temper that comes from dad probably. It's one of the last details I want from him.  
I've heard Nick talking to Troy about inheriting things from the parent you'd rather not. You use it, make it your own, he says. It doesn't make you them. It makes you better.  
Right now better is what I want to be. It's taken a while. I'm still not totally healed and when my brother connects with a brutal body-shot to my unguarded right side I cry out. It's a bit embarassing but let's face it. This is going to be a lot of that, isn't it?

During our 'training' I think back to the moments I remember of losing my arm. The things my brother did. It distracts me from the small crowd around the house pretending not to watch this. I have one of those damning thoughts- 'they're probably rooting for him at this point'- I push that down. I've been a miserable ass for the last few weeks. Before I decided to get my act together. When all I could think about was my physical loss as well as the loss of what I thought MYSELF was before this all came to a head. I'd been played by Madison and menaced by Walker. I'd done a terrible thing- no, terrible *things*.

***

As soon as Nick had taken that swing and Troy responded with his usual amazing speed and clear-headedness the details started getting fuzzy. There's skips in my memory from the trauma to my mind and body.   
But I remember the important parts.  
Troy holding a tourniquet for a drive that felt like forever but I'm told was somewhere around two hours.   
They were headed to a safe house Coop had arranged with Troy a long time ago. In case they ever had to high tail it everyone in the militia had a plan. Also, Coop had a budding romance with the surgeon that had come to us when the infection first broke out.

"You stay with me, you hear Jake? Stay with me!" His eyes are teary and he has Nick pull over about halfway through the trip to check my temp so he can keep doing everything in his power to slow the bleeding. 

We'd discovered that a quickly lowering temperature meant definite INFECTION. Now by that point I certainly was going to develop an infection...just hopefully not that one. I'd like to take partial credit for coming up with the theory by the way. When people from the ranch began coming in to the make-shift clinic in Troy's militia base, with symptoms similar to what we'd heard of before radio and television had gone dead, he'd done a lot of research. Research I gave him hell for. 

But if he hadn't been doing that, we would've never had that discussion about the chill the Consuela noticed that radiated out from a bite wound and moved up the body. How, possibly, we could circumvent that with an amputation. Problem was, there'd always been too much time between the bite and when we saw the patients. 

My case was different. That had been the first clear thought in my head out there in the desert after I'd been bitten. My brother and I getting along for the first time in what seemed like forever. 

We'd grown apart while I'd been away, of course. And things had happened that I'd missed. That I should've been there for as an older brother. As the older son of the man we both knew had taken an idea we were invested in and believed in, and twisted it into a money making scheme.

***

"Again. Come at me." Troy doesn't ever really yell. He states everything in this matter of fact way that commands attention. Commands respect. Turns the heads of everyone in the room. All while somehow calming and centering what is usually on the verge of a mob. It's a skill dad had, a skill I should have had- as Jeremiah Jr.

People become monsters. Especially at the worst of times. Troy was never a monster though. And whether or not I showed that, I knew it. I knew it because of everything he'd ever done. Especially just moments after I'd almost taken his life. Why? Who knows? Was I out of my mind? I hope so. But I was there for that vote and didn't try hard enough. Was I played? Definitely. By dad, by Madison. But both had done the same to my baby brother. And here he was saving my life. That part I remember. The promises he told me I didn't need to make.

"What did you do Jake?" He asks, hurt in his eyes as he tries to coax me into keeping mine open. "What did you do?"

I'm a bit delirious and he could mean anything but I know what he's asking. By not fighting for him back at the ranch "I killed you."

"Yeah. And worse. You took the choice away from me to live or die. So consider this moment us getting even. You don't get a choice. You're going to fucking live."

***

Later on I hear the details of how Alicia came along. Nick had seen her wandering around in the desert. She'd left the ranch because of everything. Because she thought what they'd done to my brother was wrong (she'd voted the other way...not popular with Madison at that moment and yet another reason to go), because I wouldn't listen to her. I had decided to go out to the desert and 'deal' with Troy. A suggestion from Madison and Walker but ultimately my decision.

At the time all I knew was she was crying and I thought I was going to die with bad feelings between two of the most important people in my life.

"What...what can we do?" Troy is exhausted and panicking. Might have been the first time I personally saw him lose faith in himself.

After some prodding from Nick, a reminder that she was going to be a doctor pre-apoc, she tells my brother they can cauterize the wound to stop the bleeding. But that will surely cause an infection. 

***

I think of the moments I wavered in and out, hearing them talk about heating up the wide side of Troy's machete with a torch to do the deed. I think of him comforting me, assuring me we'd see each other again because I didn't have a choice. And then nothing. Nothing until I woke up on a proper hospital bed, one wrist handcuffed to the table.

"Don't look." Troy says after I weakly call out for someone to please uncuff me. I was sure by then I wasn't turning. I felt like hell but still alive.  
Troy used his own lanky body to shield my view from the grotesque site of what was left of my right arm. The left had tubes running through it. Antibiotics and pain medication I assumed, from how I felt and what I knew I'd need to survive this in a jury-rigged clinic at Coop's safehouse.

***

Now he's giving me tips on learning hand to hand with one damn hand. I try to readjust the stance I'd learned and practiced for years. We used to spar all the time. My knuckles just barely brush his body. I thought I'd swung harder than that.   
"Jake, use that big brain of yours. If you're up against a person, throw that gimpy right side at them. Throw your shoulder HARD into them. They won't expect that. They'll think you're as weak as useless as it looks. But you're not. Use your advantages. You fucking know this."  
It works this time. I rush him, throwing my right shoulder into his body and knocking him back. Almost on his ass. If you've seen my brother fight, you know that's damn impressive.  
"There!" He hugs me hard, presses our foreheads together. I think one of us might be tearing up. Maybe both. But I'm proud. I'm feeling useful.  
Troy shakes off the tender moment and tells me now I can help around the harvest and mending the greenhouse that has been neglected so much until we arrived.   
"Knew you were just milking it, college boy has it in him after all." The asshole mumbles.   
"Love you too."  
"Shut up. Go find some work to do."


	3. Stuffed It Down, It's Back Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake and Alicia have a fight.

"Were you engaged to Charlie?" I remember how Gretchen had made a point to say 'poor Jake' when we'd come back without the pilot.

*Don't say 'yes'. PLEASE don't say 'yes'. For the love of god...Do not say the 'y' word.* 

I've taken it upon myself to adopt an entirely different approach to getting Jake through his funk than his brother has. Not that I can't see Troy's method working. I think I always had more faith in Troy than most people did. Not like my brother does, obviously, but I didn't vote to send him away either.

I sit in the room I share with my boyfriend (a word that took me longer than it should to associate with Jake Otto, for how quickly we got so 'close') and try my best to find the little things I know he'll like that feel normal. Poetry. Talking about his college days. Even talking about the plans he had had to make the ranch better... before he came back from college and everything was getting worse of course. Admittedly, I find these topics more interesting than I once did but do I really need to go there NOW?

Using the medical studies books the Otto boys' Aunt had lying around, and advice from Consuela, I'd started helping him learn to use his left hand for the little things. To adapt. Something funny not funny? We're both right handed. 

It's a trial. But he's worth it. I've decided that...Yep.

Oh, shit. I think I'm in love with him...Yep again.

Jesus Tap-Dancing Christ. I mean, my life has been unfair enough, more unfair than most people's, surely...Yep. 

When we first got together I was so cold to him. So dismissive because my heart was still broken...And you know my mom used that to her advantage - cold unfeeling bitch. She made it no secret to myself and my brother that we ought to use the Otto boys to our social advantage while we still could. 

Nick had told her straight up to go fuck herself. 

First of all it's not like my brother to use people like that. Not to mention Troy is way too intuitive (for the batshit crazy he seemed like when we met- and sometimes still does). I was so proud of him for not letting her manipulate him the way she so easily could.

But I got played didn't I? I fell right into her plot and happily went along. My life - so un-fucking unfair...

Wait a sec. I HAPPILY went along? 

Well, shit...Nope. Because I *am* smarter than that. I did it on purpose. I did it because I could, by my own volition. I did it because I thought the world owed me something for the man (the MEN) I'd lost. I did it because I am just as much a monster as her sometimes. 

I didn't get played.

I played the game. 

Jake, ever the diplomat, can obviously see the confliction on my face. I wish I could've helped it. He begins to delicately answer the question I've almost forgotten I asked.

"Yes. Yeah. We were. Right before she... right before, just a couple weeks. But Alicia I'm over it, I promise. I'm sad she's gone of course. But I love you."

"Shit. Jake, shut up, I have to tell you something."

I explain what mom had asked us to do to get control of the ranch. I can't look him in the eye. I can't but I force myself to. His jaw is hard set, he stares back at me and I wonder if he always knew...the way he's looking at me. Then the way he is suddenly NOT looking at me. Oh fuck me... 

"What about Nick? Did he do the same to my brother?"

"No, of course not. He flat out refused."

"Good..." He says, taking a slow, even breath, "That's good." 

"You can hate me if you want but you deserve to know. I love you, so I want you to know- ok, and you're leaving the room now." I finish the declaration alone. He didn't even take his pillow.

***

Maybe half an hour later Troy comes upstairs and throws me a spare set of bedding, crumpled up...kind of like Jake looks standly weakly behind his taller brother. 

He shuts the door with Jake on the other side. Long enough to tell me he's sick of watching a one armed, broken hearted man trying to make a bed on the couch downstairs when that's where I deserve to sleep. 

Of course that's exactly what I deserve. No argument here. Hopefully tomorrow we can talk but tonight the brothers are sharing our room.


	4. I Could Beg You Please In Vain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Troy knows a lot about home remedies and Nicky spent so many years on drugs his boyfriend worries/Troy never does anything NOT to the extreme

So I'm constantly impressed by the little things Troy knows how to do.  
For instance, growing up in a self-sustaining commune means that he understands how to keep the place we're staying in producing plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables for all of us.   
The crazy motherfucker has a chart in his *bedroom* for what's in season and what the fuck it needs.   
To be fair (or not?) he has a chart for everything.  
And let's not forget the piles and piles of handwritten books on medical home remedies.   
Troy has just wrapped up telling me this hilarious...and sort of embarassing (for someone else) story of a horrible tasting tea that cured a family member's laundry list of STDs he came home from college with once.  
I really hate to pick on Jake more than I already have (well...I don't *hate* to... there were a lotta problems with Troy and Jake. Also he does it with my sister. Still. Despite all I've told him about what I liked to do to her old boyfriends)...but it was Jake. He decided, I guess, to have one or two years of fun before he went back to the world of responsibility.  
Because I'm a dumbass I don't even notice him (and my traitor sister) looking through these old books and cooking up something that, when it's finally a complete batch, smells a little like death inside a dirty gym sock.   
The only reason I don't have a better analogy is because I already know what that fucking smells like is because I have a distinct memory of a 'job' we all did while still at the ranch where we found ourselves in a high school full of the dead. It wasn't far away from the ranch. Apparently Jake used to go there. He recognized a few of the teachers that had locked themselves inside. A mean old janitor especially, still sort of miming the act of sweeping the room. The woman who once was the school nurse 'checking' some of the more oozy disgusting 'wounds' of her fellow walkers.   
That was the day we decided it was humane to take them out if they were so much as reminding us of human behavior...even if it was easier to just lock themselves in like they'd clearly done when the outbreak began. We found a flyer on the way out about a special faculty meeting. Troy spent way longer than appropriate once we were outside, making noise against the windows while we checked the perimeter. He scuffed the window and the janitor...kid you fucking not...wiped furiously away at his side.   
That all aside, we are now 'safely' tucked away in the old homestead in Washington. When Troy was still recovering from his injuries he described and made notes of everything that must be done immediately to get this place going.   
It had been the home of the only reasonable sounding family member he had left. The woman that had raised his father and other siblings (but like them) decided to stay far away from him. When she'd died his father had spared no expense for Troy to come back up here and turn it into a self-sustaining fortress 'in case shit'. I remember asking if that meant 'in case the ranch collectively turned on him some day?'. "Exactly." He'd laughed.   
Troy has come so far and I sure as fuck owe him a lot. Aside from that little drug trip we took at the market he spent most of the days after I stopped resisting the urge to get to know him (I accidentally followed that witch's plan didn't I? but we got through it) he went out of his way to get past his personal feelings on, well, people like me, and help me get clean the safe and healthier way. It's taken me too long to admit it, but the way Madison used to 'help me' was only making things worse. Control. Attention from my problems. Praise for her diligence.   
Fuck that. Munchausen Syndrome.  
Troy was the one that cared even when he didn't have a reason to, to help me out and make me a better man.  
Apparently, however, his long gone sweet auntie had made a little note in one of her books (of which Troy had read ALL well before he died sometime around the same age at which I'd started doing heroin hardcore) drug-addicts, even long former...which I was, suffered from weak immune systems for ages.  
Couldn't have that.  
"Come here baby," Troy is oddly holding one of those long droppers with the big squeezy thing at one end and it's full of something 'piping hot' and horrible.  
"Listen I ain't losing you because you're a pansy. It's not that bad and right now who even wants to worry about the everyday fucking cold when you could just prevent it. Just fucking take it or we do this the hard way!"  
"And I'm not putting up with this difficult patient crap anymore." My sister the traitor. They whisper strategy to eachother. Like they can outrun this guy. Even two to one I'm fast as hell. Fast and lucky. That's my life's motto.  
Alicia and Jake seem to be slowly making up. Jake is watching me with Victor, actually supporting the older man who is laughing harder than I've ever seen (he's not usually the positive type, let alone capable of an unihibited chortle no less). Jake just sighs and tells me to take it because Troy actually closely resembles the woman who came up with this in brilliance and personality. I know my sister certainly is tenacious.  
I'm still not going down without a fight.  
And all of a sudden...  
It's like how Alicia describes that first time in Troy's office when mom decided to make a move and some time during the scuffle she made a move herself and he ran into her.  
When he relates his side of the story he says all he remembers is the sound of something hitting the wall then the floor, making a vibration he felt through his steel-toed boots but otherwise not even throwing him off his fight against my mother.  
Like a baby deer crumpled into a terrified little pile, making small pathetic noises, screaming for help.  
That's exactly how I feel when they suddenly change track from the plan they called out loudly. Troy goes high and Alicia goes low and I know there's an audience but all I care about is the horrible 'remedy' shot down my throat. I've tasted worse, hell...asked for it, but I had my reasons back then and my decision making skills needed maturing.   
I deserve this. But I   
"...fucking DO not want it!" I finish screaming though it's too late. Troy is using the jumper voice.  
"Hold on baby, just a couple more times..."  
I idiotically yell "WHAT!?!" from shock and get another squirt.   
Alicia almost loses grip of whatever part of me she's supposed to be responsible to hold. "It's like giving a cat medicine! Goddamn it, hold still!"  
I try to mouth off because I'm an idiot, doing the big brother thing and taunting her because I don't see a hospital bed with handcuffs, don't have a handfull of scruff on the back of my neck to put me in a trance like a cat...and I'm going to get her later.   
Of course I'm not, and eventually they're done. Troy is taking this very very seriously because he loves me. My sister does to and it probably provided a kind of distraction if not an ice-breaker to keep things rolling with Jake. (You're both welcome.)  
The on-lookers amble off. Eventually I come to bed and see if I can get away with pretending to sulk a bit. My boyfriend pulls me into a hug and even though I think that might be the worst thing that'd ever happened to me that I didn't directly ask for I get it and I get that it is because he loves me. Still, it's nice knowing it's over.  
I'll do what works best for me and put into the vault what he whispers to me as I'm dozing off.  
"Only a few times a day for a few months. Then every once in a while. And it ain't that bad..."


	5. Does It Almost Feel Like Nothing Changed At All?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Troy gets a cold. Jake takes care of him like he did when they were little.

Sometimes the Otto boys actually remind us that they're brothers.

I have the best example right now, with my own brother cuddled in the bed Jake has vacated about four or five hours ago to cook - honest to God - Chicken fucking soup. Yep, tending to the stock pot with care as if that old wive's tale holds merit.

Troy has had a little head cold all week. As Nicky tried to tell him, as *I* with the nursing experience, *and* Cooper's girlfriend the actual doctor, diagnosed and assured him...

"You're not gonna die."

I can hear Jake repeating it. It's only the beginning of the madness. For real.

Apparently when they were very little, they used to be closer, 'Thick as thieves' as Troy might say. But with the constant reminder of the literal physical distance with Jake being in school (not to mention its metophorical progression), and Troy's exposure to what I can assure you was a toxic fucking parent, it only grew. It's sad to know. After everything with Nicky and I, we're still the closest ever and pretty much best friends.  
Troy's mom never got along with Jake...in part because Jake didn't want another mommy and big time because Big Otto told him his momma *left*...not entirely the truth (she's here, we found her on the way and she explained how legality and illegality- as well as threats against his own life and their baby (likely an insane, not to mention pathetic attempt at control)- made her walk away from everything...she still regrets it and now she's momma to them both when they'll allow it.   
Independant little bastards.  
Anyway, if wifey #2 and daddy were both absent or drunk out of their minds, and little Troy needed comfort, Jake stepped in. He'd cuddle his baby, soothe him with home remedies when he was sick, and somewhere down the line Troy started calling him "Jakey teddy bear" (he still does that when he's really sleepy- or sleep talking).  
"Jaaake," We hear Troy whine. "I usually lay on this side. You're not doing it right."  
Apparently Jake had already gotten snippy when Nick left his and Troy's room and almost ran into my boyfriend trying to balance a piping hot bowl of chicken soup. 'Kinda hard to balance this one-handed dude,' he grouched as he raced upstairs and Nick dove into our own room.   
"Well I'm doing the best I can. Sorry, I can't pet you and feed you at the same time." Troy whines again. BTW, fun (and useful fact), you can just about literally knock him out with steady strokes to his messy blond curls.  
"S'yer fault." Troy kind of snaps. He's been snappy since he got the first sniffle. "And it's too hot. Blow on it."  
"Better?"   
"No, pet me and let me feed myself. I *guess* that's good enough." 

"Can you believe this shit?" Nick whispers, cuddled up to me, covers pulled up over our heads like he's scared his grouchy sickly boyfriend is going to hear and...I don't know, sneeze on him? He's been bed ridden of his own volition and swearing he's going to die. Nick surprisingly hasn't caught the little nothing Troy has, despite how they're figuratively and literally almost always up each other's asses.

"Jaaaake." It's every few seconds with this. The reason for the complaining is stupid cute.  
"What?"  
"You stopped." For a second likely. Told you. Stupid cute.  
Sometimes they remind me that they're going to work through all the shit put between them (probably intentionally) and be what's left of a family torn apart. Sometimes that reminds the rest of us to appreciate what we have more than anything.

"I know, I fucking love him." I tell my brother. "Love you too."  
"Same on both counts 'Licia." We laugh while Jake struggles to comfort his impossibly dramatic little brother. It seems out of character for Troy but I've asked before and this isn't far from the way it used to be in childhood.


	6. This Is The Smile That I've Never Shown Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Troy reflects on his life so far. How it's gotten better and who has gotten him there.

I think I'm doin' ok...  
We've been working hard for weeks.  
Hell, I've been working hard my whole life.  
I hardly stopped to take it all in. To take anything in. I used to think that was exactly what I needed, what I wanted. I used to think it made me happy.  
It did make me happy. All the hard work. Living to *work* for that place and those people.  
Like I told Madison, "Everything I do is for this place."  
And it truly was, everything I did was for that place, for those people living on our ranch...though looking back that's especially my family. Not just what's left of it now- or what's become of it, (more on that in a minute)- but what it was before.  
There was a time where my family used to hide me away, constantly apologizing for me, trying to excuse and explain ME...as I know my daddy told Madison just about the moment he met her when she opened her big mouth to complain about me and my behavior, calling me 'insane', 'dangerous' (I really was just trying to do what was right and if she'd given me a damn minute to explain she'd have known the worst of the shit they saw around there wasn't me...maybe it was ON me, because I was responsible for the militia, MAYBE, but not goddamn approved of or ordered by me).  
I'm not slow, certainly not crazy the way Jake or daddy made it sound, admitted that I was. I've guess I've finally come to learn that I have a disorder, not unlike many others, and left alone (isolated, ignored, apologized for) but not helped, I may have run away with myself. I always meant the best for everyone and everything about that ranch. I always tried to do the right thing.  
But they never appreciated it, really, and I know now (thanks to my new family) that it wasn't alright to accept the feeling of being their rabid dog that they kept ot of mind and out of sight, that they didn't want the neighbors to shoot.  
I rarely give myself a moment to sit still. Sometimes I'm just afraid of my thoughts frankly. But Nick has been there and (as much as I thought the whole thing might surely be bullshit) he's walked me through talking about it and stubborn as I know can be, especially when it comes to accepting the help of others (giving up control, responsibility), I actually am starting to understand myself. Understand that's it's ok, that I'm ok. That I'm allowed to be happy. I'm not broken, I'm not weak. I'm allowed to relax, to complain, to be pissed off about the past...  
Here, in this new place, with my new family. I am.  
I'm going to marry that fucking man. Just gotta find the right walker with the right ring...  
I'm going to take care of these people with more enthusiasm than I ever put into the ranch.  
Most importantly (shit this is still hard to say but I'm getting there), when anyone in my new family says I need taking care of, I'm going to accept it.  
I've never felt this good, just sitting alone with myself- near enough to the people I love- and not feeling the drive to keep trying futilely to be good enough, work harder.  
I guess the point I'm trying to make is I finally get that I am good enough. It only took falling in love with a man who may actually be crazier than people think I am; someone who took the time to get to know me and force me to understand myself.


	7. Look At The Wonderful Mess That We Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A big surprise for Troy and Nick, and a big decision that's easier than either ever thought...

It's Troy's freaking birthday when it happens, a little more than a year after our move up north.  
We were only supposed to patrol a nearby highway. The work in progress of clearing the roadways to and from Canada started with an unexpected discovery.  
A gas station, usually this would be full of walkers and a fun (in Troy's eyes, and admittedly, usually mine as well) day with no major issues.   
I guess we're calling other living people 'major issues' these days...*sigh*...But everybody has a story, a 'problem', in the sense that it presents the very real possibility of getting you killed these days. She was no exception.  
The bus the girl came in on was full of walkers, and a large hoarde was making it's way towards us. They're what we followed here. What tipped us off that something tasty was in that small station.  
Whoever was driving was smart enough to wedge the large tour bus against any weak entries. From the look of it she was the only one to make it out, make it inside. How, or how long even, that she survived on the meager supplies inside wasn't one of the questions I got to ask her.  
"Oh shit," she and Troy both expressed as the hoarde got close enough to bang on the outside doors. There were even a few walkers inside the bus, and one in particular she didn't have the strength to look at without tearing up as it broke it's way out of the bus and joined the pack.   
The building wasn't meant to hold off a group of the living trying to break in. The dead have no limits. The living have the worst timing.  
Because the moment they started pushing against every entry was the moment her water broke.   
"Fuck."  
A look between my boyfriend and I decides that somehow, I'm more equipped to deal with an impromptu birth in the middle of nowhere. Really, he's more equipped to take care of a sizeable group of zombies on his own than I am.  
He and I get to work closing off three entryways after we choose the most advantageous opening for him to take them on with the machete hanging on his belt.  
We hadn't come with much. Didn't think we'd have to. This was supposed to be the start to a pleasant day. Damn it.  
I try not to watch too too closely as he eliminates them quickly, brutally, that look in his eyes that says he doesn't quite understand why he shouldn't enjoy this. Meanwhile, I'm not exactly enjoying my responsibility.  
I love kids. I respect the fuck out of anybody that is willing to give birth- naturally, here, now, oh god...  
I hear Troy cry out a few times; 'watch out', 'hurry up', 'goddamnit Nicky we may have to move soon'.  
There's a moment towards the end when I look in her eyes and KNOW not everyone is making it out of this. I know who I prefer (all of us in a perfect world, of course). But even I know with my limited experience that after the beautiful squalling baby boy is out and wrapped in somebody's jacket that she's bleeding too much.  
Troy, in is his infinite awkwardness asks me what I did wrong when he comes back. I give him the baby and tell him to get in the buggy. I was with her, it's my duty to make sure she doesn't come back. I put her down and book it, jumping into the driver's seat.  
On the way back he doesn't say anything for quite awhile. In fact, all he's done is stare at the baby with this look that clearly says "what the fuck are you doing here?". It's almost funny.  
When he speaks he mutters about the situation. Making it even more macabre than it was when I was trying to write it off in my mind. That poor girl. She got so far. In the goddamn apocalypse. Pregnant. Alone mostly.   
I have a few of her things. Photos of her and her husband. Notes she left the kid. She knew, obviously, maybe didn't even *want* to make it. And something definitely went wrong. I guess what bothers Troy most, as he holds him, is this:  
"If we weren't there, she woulda turned and..."  
"Yeah babe. Let's not think about that right now. Let's just get home and make sure he's ok-"  
She'd have eaten him, her own baby. She would have EATEN HER BABY. Yeah, let's both keep that a disturbing little thought in the back of our minds, one of the few that we keep secret and safe in this messed up, beautiful world. The world made for me and Troy, somehow....  
We live with a damn qualified doctor. Maybe not a baby doctor but she'll know what to do to make sure he's alright.   
As soon as we get back to the compound I expect Troy to leave the baby with her and go about his day. He does not. In fact, he never once lets go of him, heading into the kitchen and having somehow, on the way, put him in a sling so he can create some homemade version of formula. Don't ask me. His aunt, who he spent a lot of time with here in this house, was a naturalist and taught him a lot.  
He mumbles something to me about his old crib being in the attic. I try to figure out who the fuck I'm living with because this doesn't seem like him.   
I mean yeah, he's teased Alicia and Jake about 'repopulating' before. But he's explicitly stated as well that he has no business with babies himself. And yet he still won't put the baby down. Even with the doc following him around complaining. Finally I tell her to shut the fuck up and give him a minute. It's been a long day.  
That's when he calmly tells her that she can check his arm, where he recalls feeling the cold breath of one of the walkers. Close fucking call. He'd cleaned the hell out of it apparently, before he made his way back to me, and no skin was broken. One hell of a day.


End file.
